


like terms

by kalachuchi



Category: PRISTIN (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 04:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20091196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalachuchi/pseuds/kalachuchi
Summary: They aren’t friends, exactly. It’s just that Nayoung has known Jonghyun forever and Jonghyun has known Seungcheol forever so it seems only inevitable that their paths would someday cross.





	like terms

**Author's Note:**

> my first tinhet (agenda AND fic!). inspiration pulled from _like that sun_ \- day 6: _Every morning when I open my eyes / The first thing that I think of / The only thing in my mind / Is you._. mostly i just wanted to write nayoung and seungcheol, and being happy. i <3 wish fulfilment!
> 
> p.s. i know this is tagged as college AU but for disclosure's sake i did write this envisioning nacoups college reunion...... not that this is in anyway vital to read LOL
> 
> p.p.s hybrid fic/nacoups-in-general [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1bDU7vJTLECFxPRvCm8fpW?si=EYgf3d9jTp2ABFmk-2lcdQ), if you'd like c:

The problem is that Choi Seungcheol is a post-hookup cuddler. Which is not necessarily a problem, per se, but is instead the instigator to the _actual _problem, namely – Choi Seungcheol is an irredeemable stay-the-night-er _as well _as a post-hookup cuddler, and Im Nayoung is very rapidly learning she doesn’t consider either of these behaviours a problem in the slightest. 

In the aftermath of such a discovery Nayoung can only do one thing: roll over and repress. A strategy bearing better chances of success had Nayoung not previously been occupying Seungcheol’s arm as a pillow, now finding herself tucked rather neatly against the dip where Seungcheol’s shoulder meets his collarbone. 

_Oooookay, then._

Nayoung delicately relocates any sensory knowledge of Seungcheol’s skin against her own to the back of a mental filing cabinet, slotted cleverly alongside other such insignificant topics like the nutritional benefits of dairy products, or the looming prospect of settling on an undergraduate dissertation topic. 

After all this Nayoung says, eloquently, “Hrrnnghhh.”

“Nayoung?”

Nayoung tilts her head back to peer upwards. Seungcheol’s eyes are closed, eyebrows knit tightly together. His free arm is draped ineffectively across the lower half of his face, blocking none of the sunlight filtering past Nayoung’s blinds. There’s a hickey just below his jaw that Nayoung knows with worrying certainty she’ll feel responsible enough to cover up with her own concealer before Seungcheol heads off.

That’s for later, though. For now, in this light, Seungcheol stands out against Nayoung’s sheets, looking sleep-rumpled and precisely the kind of person who would take Nayoung back to her own apartment from a party hosted where he lives, just so Nayoung wouldn’t have to commit any walks of shame the morning after.

Because there is, apparently, a morning after attached to this. And so Nayoung is forced to re-address the problem of Seungcheol’s post-hookup cuddling tendencies.

“Nayoung–” 

Jonghyun once told Seungcheol he sounds a bit adorable when he’s whiney, and now Seungcheol lapses into a toddler every time he realises something he wants. 

“–_Nayoungie._”

Seungcheol is very loud when you’re hiding from him, from right beside him. “Are you an alarm clock?”

“No,” says Seungcheol sadly, “Don’t have my shirt.”

Nayoung tuts. “That’s not good.”

“Nayoung, I think it’s on the _floor. _I don’t wanna get up and walk on the _floor.”_

“They call this an impasse,” agrees Nayoung. “Because I don’t want to get up either.”

A pause, before Seungcheol asks, “Are you very hungover, Nayoung?”  


“Maybe.” _Ha_. Nayoung wishes. Alcohol makes things stupidly easy. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Makes people easily stupid, too, because Nayoung sits up anyway. Seungcheol’s shirt tumbles from Nayoung’s shoulders to her lap. Nayoung blinks, acknowledging that this is probably what she deserves for having high resistance to cold and blankets the same colour as her sheets. 

“…I found this for you.” Nayoung deposits the shirt on Seungcheol’s face.

It doesn’t really help, though, because Nayoung swears she can _hear _Seungcheol’s smile anyway.

“My hero,” Seungcheol says, “but I’m still not an alarm clock for you. Sorry.”

Nayoung’s phone buzzes and she reaches over to tap at the screen, pretending it was an alarm to disable.

_JUJU: sorry i missed everyone last night! phone fainted! minghao doesnt have the same charger! made him buy a spare as penalty!_

“My schedule’s free today,” Nayoung says, casual. “So I’ll let it slide.”  


Seungcheol’s eyes go very wide.  


“Ah, shit–“ He shrugs at Nayoung, guilty. “–damn. I have classes in the afternoon.”

“It’s morning?”

“I have to make sure there’s a house standing for after.”

Nayoung thumbs the edge of her phone, recalls the state of last night’s party, and decides this makes a lot of sense. 

“Cool.”

“Cool,” Seungcheol echoes. “I’ll…will I see you later?”

“We have Economics together, Seungcheol,” Nayoung explains, aware this is not what Seungcheol means.

Seungcheol bites his lip, waiting.

“Yes,” says Nayoung.  


Seungcheol beams. “Okay! I’ll see you later, Nayoung!”

Nayoung drops back in bed once Seungcheol leaves, properly under the blankets this time. She calls Jieqiong, who can be heard in the background of the call, all breathless whispers and hissed laughter. Closer to the speaker, Minghao says, “Sorry, Nayoung-unnie. Jieqiong’s fine.”

“I believe it,” Nayoung says. “Did she bully you into buying a charger?”  


“Junhui had one,” Minghao dodges. Nayoung tries not to smile. Jieqiong has always been more than alright. She wonders how the house held up the rest of last night, free from Seungcheol’s supervision.

Then she thinks about Seungcheol, smile big enough it stretches from cheek to cheek to show teeth and gums, and Nayoung’s stomach turns itself over. Seungcheol’s voice when he says,_ Are you very hungover, Nayoung?, _concern almost careless in its throwaway casualness.

Nayoung pulls the blankets over her face and resolves not to dwell on the house, or Seungcheol, or anything beyond the scope of the shadows within the blankets, Nayoung’s pulse loud in the dark.

Nayoung is not entirely sure how she knows everyone at this party. 

The principle of Nayoung’s party strategy is simple: wave at people you know, smile and avoid people you don’t. Sometimes Nayoung even avoids people waving at her who she knows. Eunwoo’s hair is bubblegum pink these days, a hopping beacon of trouble underway, and Nayoung promptly sidesteps Eunwoo and the living room altogether to make a beeline for the balcony, Soonyoung’s booming laugh bouncing off the walls behind her.

Why Seungcheol and Taeyong’s cramped rental townhouse has a balcony attached to the kitchen rather than the living room or one of the bedrooms has always been something of a mystery among Nayoung’s extended social circles. Much like how Seungcheol consistently manages to convince Taeyong to agree to Seungcheol hosting parties at their house that Nayoung never seems to see Taeyong attend. 

Nayoung is not actually sure Taeyong is real, at this point, but Seungcheol seems like too awful a liar to believably accept anything else. Taeyong probably has the right idea not turning up, though, even when the party is at his own house. Contrary to popular belief – Minkyung and Yebin mostly, Jieqiong when she senses a good time – Nayoung is not _actually_ a partygoer. 

“_Actually_,” Yebin likes to air quote, “doesn’t mean you _couldn’t be, _you know.”

“I know,” Nayoung says. Then, to stave off anything Yebin might follow up with, “the answer is still no.”

Minkyung says, “That’s unfortunate. I’ve already picked you a dress.”

Nayoung glances down and smooths out the skirt of the dress, fingers plucking at imagined scraps of lint in the poor lighting. It really is a nice dress.

Yebin’s voice, from the kitchen: “I have no idea where Nayoung is. She seemed excited for tonight though. Seriously excited.”

“Seriously,” Minkyung echoes. Nayoung turns on her heels to go inside.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” says a voice that isn’t Yebin or Minkyung’s. Nayoung stills. “I’ll look around – hey, have you checked the balcony?”

Minkyung gasps. “There’s a _balcony–” _and Nayoung finds herself still facing the door as it slides open to show Seungcheol, who lifts up a hand without waving it.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says. Further inside the apartment, someone jacks up the volume on the sound system, the railing trembling all the way out by the balcony. 

Nayoung says, “I didn’t think anyone was looking for me.”

“Someone’s always gonna look out for you,” Seungcheol says, and they both stare at each other before – well, Seungcheol laughs. Nayoung is trying not to show how immediate the effect of Seungcheol’s laughter is, Nayoung’s shoulders dropping down from where they’d risen up.

“I’m not cold,” she says, Seungcheol beginning to shrug off the flannel over his shirt.

“Think of it this way, then,” Seungcheol grins, holding out the flannel. “This way I won’t overheat, either.”

Nayoung snorts, but leans back as Seungcheol steps in and drapes the flannel around her shoulders. It feels counterproductive somehow – Nayoung’s usual impulse around Seungcheol is to shrug aside rather than to step into, but the difference must only exist in Nayoung’s head since the rest of Nayoung remains entirely in the moment, aware of Seungcheol without trying to archive Seungcheol’s presence as he feels in the present for after, once he’s already left.

“It’s your house,” Nayoung says, considering. “How do you overdress for your own party.”

Seungcheol jabs his thumb at his chest. “Easy – just like this.”

Nayoung laughs.

A muffled tapping from the sliding door. Nayoung glances back to find the kitchen empty again, save for Jieqiong by the counter who points at a corner of the sliding door before waltzing out of the kitchen with three cups cradled in her arms. 

Someone’s breathed against the glass, fingers smudging a heart and what is almost definitely a winky face into the condensation. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Seungcheol, of course.

“I already did, earlier.” Nayoung did not.

“Good,” says Seungcheol, mouth snapping shut when Nayoung turns back to face him, eyes crinkling shut in a grin. 

Nayoung says, “Is it?”

“Drinks are good in general,” Seungcheol says, “but I mean. It’s good like this.”

Nayoung waits. 

Seungcheol continues. “I haven’t done my laundry for the week yet – that probably sounds disgusting, sorry, I don’t mean it that way.”

“Drunk laundry won’t end well,” Nayoung advises. Then: “I think I’ve done mine, though. Laundry, that is.”

“Yeah?” Seungcheol’s doing it again, the smile that compresses his whole face into a single focal point of brightness. “Maybe you should check. It’s getting late, though, I can walk you back.”

“That would work,” Nayoung allows, drawing Seungcheol’s flannel closer around her shoulders.

Seungcheol laughs as they slip back inside the house to the front door, music thrumming through the walls but all Nayoung registers is Seungcheol a step away, figure lit from the back and shrouded in light, light, light.

They aren’t friends, exactly. It’s just that Nayoung has known Jonghyun forever and Jonghyun has known Seungcheol forever so it seems only inevitable that their paths would someday cross. 

_CHOI SEUNGCHEOL: jonghyunnie finishes exams next week was thinking of planning a party? be nice to see u there too. lmk_

Seungcheol only ever messages outside of business hours, so as to avoid messaging Nayoung outside of class at all costs. Well. It isn’t as if Seungcheol knows Nayoung’s class schedule to begin with. Even now, Nayoung wouldn’t label Seungcheol a friend of a friend for fear of feeling overly distant – which is silly, because it isn’t as if Nayoung really _knows _Seungcheol either, so.

So. 

_[SENT] CHOI SEUNGCHEOL: ! when/where_

For Nayoung, Seungcheol is simply Seungcheol, and for now Nayoung is fine with leaving it at that.

This is when it starts:

Nayoung bracketing Seungcheol against a wall, next to probably-a-storage-closet. _Hopefully a storage close_t, Nayoung’s dignity is praying. _Too late for take backs if it isn’t_, Nayoung’s common sense is thinking. 

Seungcheol’s hands at the back of her neck, the small of her back, just before the hem of her shirt. Manner hands. Though there’s nothing particularly mannerful about the noises Seungcheol is making, incapable of holding anything back – or in.

Coincidentally, Nayoung is rather good at holding people’s attention.

_I like your nails, _Seungcheol told her the first day of semester. _The glitter matches your pen. _That was almost four months ago now. Seungcheol is free with his praises, giving in his focus taking note of Nayoung’s nails – with or without nail art – to her preferred seat during lectures (_Deadline coming up? I saved your seat)_. The first time Nayoung smiles at him outside class, Seungcheol grinning back before her own can falter, unsure if it was noticed.

Like a safety net, holding Nayoung up whether or not she gives anything away.

So maybe _that_ was when it started, really. 

And maybe now is just Nayoung finally allowing herself to pay attention. To give something of herself without taking it back.

Six weeks later, Nayoung starts staying the night at Seungcheol's. Walking back holds no shame in the morning, not when Seungcheol walks her back: first to the door, then to the gate, Nayoung eventually detouring to the kitchen to grab them both coffee to go beforehand.

Nayoung reasons, “Besides, it's only once or twice–” 

_“A week,”_ interjects Minkyung. 

“–and I didn’t even mean to, at the start.” Nayoung finishes, undeterred.

“You didn’t mean to.” Minkyung repeats, wry. “Which part? The fucking or the falling for him?”

Nayoung is maybe a bit deterred. “Pass.”

Minkyung adds, "I'm serious. Love at first sight is underrated anyway."

"Next question," Nayoung says, with feeling.

_“Nayoung.”_

It isn't until Nayoung ducks into the kitchen and notices Seungcheol's moved the sugar from top shelf to the counter that it sinks in. The space Seungcheol occupies in her thoughts, shifting in silhouette from a friend of a friend, reachable if tugged by the collar if she stands on tip toes to Seungcheol, house as familiar to Nayoung as the now-known palm of Seungcheol's hand. Seungcheol himself, heart like a revolving door, reeling Nayoung in and letting her breathe, wander in circles til she finds her way back.

(On the way back from Nayoung’s apartment Nayoung asks, “Have you actually done your laundry?”

“Nope. I’m pretty honest about things, you know?” Nayoung didn’t know. But Nayoung doesn’t know lots of things.“And it seems annoying to clean before when I’ll be doing lots of cleaning after.”

Nayoung nods sagely. “So, laziness. Excuse accepted.”

Seungcheol puffs his cheeks out and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree.

Previous experience and a healthy dose of common sense would suggest that 20 Questions is a game people play before (_Or during_, Xiyeon’s voice filters in,_ let’s not make assumptions here_) you know the way someone sounds in bed. But Nayoung has never particularly been a person who likes to look back on opportunities missed and Seungcheol has a surprisingly extensive mental inventory of drinking-games-turned-conversation-starters at the ready. Blending together like complementary colours, like terms drawn together.

So, here they are. Nayoung still isn’t thinking of where they will be, not really.

And since Nayoung isn’t sure, she doesn’t say anything when Seungcheol doesn’t ask if she’s in for _this_ as long as _this_ will go. But Seungcheol doesn’t ask, and maybe that says everything either of them needs to after all. Certainly Nayoung thinks it must mean something: even if just a start.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for stopping by and reading! :D


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